Dear Mom,
I've avoided writing for so long. I just didn't want to think about any of this. For a while I was doing well - surviving, dealing with life, and keeping busy. I didn't avoid my feelings. But, after getting so used to it, I guess I "fell off the wagon." I stopped writing. I stopped dealing with it. Instead, I focused solely on work and not on anything that involved feeling or emotion. Looks like that worked out well. (sarcasm)
October was a tough month. I spent my 28th birthday without you. For the first time in memory, I didn't have my mom to take me shopping. Do you remember that we would do that every year? You refused to get me gift cards, and now I know it was so that we could spend a day together. Looking back now, it meant so much to me to have those memories. Now I know that it a tradition I will want to carry on with Logan. But, even so, it didn't make my birthday any easier, knowing that I didn't realize last year's shopping trip would be the last one for us.
You missed Logan's first Halloween, in which he dressed up as a monkey. We would have gone over to your house to "trick-or-treat."
You missed hearing about my first real business trip; the first time I ever traveled alone (without family). Logan had to spend four days with Adam's parents. We couldn't really ask anyone else to inconvenience their lives for four days to help us out...
Tomorrow you'll miss Logan's first birthday party. Monday you'll miss his first haircut, on his actual birthday.
And this is what I've been avoiding for almost two months. I've been avoiding thinking of all you're missing.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
A Growing Boy
Dear Mom,
You'd be surprised at how fast Logan's growing. He's already crawling now, and he's actually quite fast. He loves to crawl around to the kitchen sink and watch me do chores. He's also babbling a lot now. When I write this it makes me sad to think how much you're missing. You won't get to teach Logan how to make homemade Play-Doh. You won't get to attend his first birthday party, which is already being planned. You won't be at his first day of school or his last day of school. I know people will say that you're watching over him, or whatever, but that's not even close to the same thing. Having you be a part of his life was the plan. Having you be his "Grandma Ba" was the plan.
I have a confession to make... I looked on Facebook for the kid who was driving the truck that hit you. I know, it was a stupid decision. But I waited four months, so it wasn't a spur of the moment decision. I don't know what I expected to find out. This person is just a typical college kid, enjoying life at a state school. What I find odd is that there is literally no mention of this life-altering experience. No, Facebook may not be the medium of choice for venting one's frustrations or sharing information. However, you'd think something abnormal would come across the radar in someone's profile. Nothing. Nothing? Nothing?! I'm trying so hard not to judge this person, but, had I been in those shoes, my life would have been forever changed. I don't know what I thought would be an appropriate Facebook post... Maybe something along the lines of "tough day?" But there's nothing. It just baffles me - and from the outside, for those of you that read my posts, it will be easy to come up with some excuse or rational explanation, but just think about how your life would change had you been involved in a fatal accident that took the lives of two people. Would you go on with your life as though nothing had changed? Would you update three days later about some pointless crap? Three days after my mom's death I was updating Facebook with the details of her funeral. Three days later my brother and I were going through piles of papers, forms, and statements so that we could find a way to pay for her funeral. I know that if I were involved in some kind of accident that took the life of another person (let alone two people), I would be so shaken and upset that I would hardly know which way was up.
Sigh... this post took a completely different course than I had intended. It wasn't the plan for me to become so upset and agitated at things I can't control. It wasn't the plan for me to share how angry I still am. It wasn't the plan for any of this to happen, was it?
You'd be surprised at how fast Logan's growing. He's already crawling now, and he's actually quite fast. He loves to crawl around to the kitchen sink and watch me do chores. He's also babbling a lot now. When I write this it makes me sad to think how much you're missing. You won't get to teach Logan how to make homemade Play-Doh. You won't get to attend his first birthday party, which is already being planned. You won't be at his first day of school or his last day of school. I know people will say that you're watching over him, or whatever, but that's not even close to the same thing. Having you be a part of his life was the plan. Having you be his "Grandma Ba" was the plan.
I have a confession to make... I looked on Facebook for the kid who was driving the truck that hit you. I know, it was a stupid decision. But I waited four months, so it wasn't a spur of the moment decision. I don't know what I expected to find out. This person is just a typical college kid, enjoying life at a state school. What I find odd is that there is literally no mention of this life-altering experience. No, Facebook may not be the medium of choice for venting one's frustrations or sharing information. However, you'd think something abnormal would come across the radar in someone's profile. Nothing. Nothing? Nothing?! I'm trying so hard not to judge this person, but, had I been in those shoes, my life would have been forever changed. I don't know what I thought would be an appropriate Facebook post... Maybe something along the lines of "tough day?" But there's nothing. It just baffles me - and from the outside, for those of you that read my posts, it will be easy to come up with some excuse or rational explanation, but just think about how your life would change had you been involved in a fatal accident that took the lives of two people. Would you go on with your life as though nothing had changed? Would you update three days later about some pointless crap? Three days after my mom's death I was updating Facebook with the details of her funeral. Three days later my brother and I were going through piles of papers, forms, and statements so that we could find a way to pay for her funeral. I know that if I were involved in some kind of accident that took the life of another person (let alone two people), I would be so shaken and upset that I would hardly know which way was up.
Sigh... this post took a completely different course than I had intended. It wasn't the plan for me to become so upset and agitated at things I can't control. It wasn't the plan for me to share how angry I still am. It wasn't the plan for any of this to happen, was it?
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Autumn has arrived
Dear Mom,
Autumn has arrived. I don't know why I'm telling you that, but it's just odd to me that we've entered a whole other season. Three months you've been gone now... and time still continues on. The world doesn't stop, although it certainly feels like it on "those days."
I had to go over to the house last weekend to look for some plates. Do you know where they are? They're the "German" ones (although Aunt Debbie says they're actually from Canada) from Grandma. I can't imagine where they would be since I have half the set here already. Everytime I go over to the house, which has literally been twice in three months, I feel like I need to take this or that with me. Everything in there has a meaning or story. I could literally recite a little tidbit about each item in that house. It's hard to NOT want to just take everything, but holding onto "stuff" won't bring you back, no matter how much I wish it were so.
You'd be proud to see how big Logan's getting. He's crawling now. We purchased his first Halloween costume, which I know you would hate because it was so expensive. But it's his first Halloween and the costume is absolutely adorable, so why not? I just can't fathom how much he, and everyone really, has changed since you left us. Some days it seems like a lifetime ago, while others it feels like yesterday.
I still find myself "forgetting" that you're gone. It's like that brief second where I think I'll call or see you, but then realize that will never happen again. It's hard. It really is. I never thought I'd be without you in my life at only 27. I've learned to do more on my own now, whereas I used to call and ask you. I still don't cook, though, which I'm sure pisses you off.
Hamilton Co. sheriff's department said that the crash report would be done on Monday. I don't know how I feel about that... Obviously I'm glad to have it done and behind us, but it will be hard to NOT read it. And honestly I don't want to read it. I don't want to look at the pictures. I don't want to read witness statements giving me a second-hand account of how you died. But how can I not when it's right in front of me? I'm actually nervous about it... as though Monday brings some monumental decision. It doesn't. It just brings all the pain and sadness back from where I've locked it away.
I still have my days where I feel so disconnected to the world. I wonder what the purpose is. I wonder why we have to go through this. I wonder if there's anything after, and if so, what is it? I wonder about stupid things, like if you get remarried because your spouse dies, do you have two spouses in heaven? How does everyone get along? Is it crowded there? It must be. People have been dying since the dawn of time, so there are lots and lots of people around, right? Thinking about this stuff makes me feel so small and unimportant. It makes me realize that things I used to worry about aren't even a blip on my worry radar now. It makes me feel like I'm just going through the emotions because why try any harder than I have to just to get by? None of this will matter in the end... While that does sound apathetic, it also pushes me to make my time here meaningful. Am I really doing what I ought to be doing? Am I using the talents God gave me to my best ability? I often don't think so. I feel pushed to do something else, to search for that one thing that will make me feel a little bigger and more important. Mostly I feel pushed to take control of my own happiness and success. I'm tired of having things dictated to me. This is how I should be as a wife. This is how I should be as a teacher. I really think I need to lead the way to my own happiness. Nobody else is going to "fix" me. And, to be honest, I can't fix myself. Not where I am now. I'm stifled and choked with policies, rules, and trivial expectations. My creativity is beaten down and my personality is locked away. Instead I've become someone who is angry, bitter, and cynical. Not only has this become my coping mechanism, but it has also become a way to deal with me feeling that I'm not being heard. I have amazing ideas. I am innovative and creative. I need to know that I'm valued, nurtured in my profession, and cultivated to be a leader or part of the leading body. I just feel like there's more for me and I'm not quite sure where to look just yet...
Autumn has arrived. I don't know why I'm telling you that, but it's just odd to me that we've entered a whole other season. Three months you've been gone now... and time still continues on. The world doesn't stop, although it certainly feels like it on "those days."
I had to go over to the house last weekend to look for some plates. Do you know where they are? They're the "German" ones (although Aunt Debbie says they're actually from Canada) from Grandma. I can't imagine where they would be since I have half the set here already. Everytime I go over to the house, which has literally been twice in three months, I feel like I need to take this or that with me. Everything in there has a meaning or story. I could literally recite a little tidbit about each item in that house. It's hard to NOT want to just take everything, but holding onto "stuff" won't bring you back, no matter how much I wish it were so.
You'd be proud to see how big Logan's getting. He's crawling now. We purchased his first Halloween costume, which I know you would hate because it was so expensive. But it's his first Halloween and the costume is absolutely adorable, so why not? I just can't fathom how much he, and everyone really, has changed since you left us. Some days it seems like a lifetime ago, while others it feels like yesterday.
I still find myself "forgetting" that you're gone. It's like that brief second where I think I'll call or see you, but then realize that will never happen again. It's hard. It really is. I never thought I'd be without you in my life at only 27. I've learned to do more on my own now, whereas I used to call and ask you. I still don't cook, though, which I'm sure pisses you off.
Hamilton Co. sheriff's department said that the crash report would be done on Monday. I don't know how I feel about that... Obviously I'm glad to have it done and behind us, but it will be hard to NOT read it. And honestly I don't want to read it. I don't want to look at the pictures. I don't want to read witness statements giving me a second-hand account of how you died. But how can I not when it's right in front of me? I'm actually nervous about it... as though Monday brings some monumental decision. It doesn't. It just brings all the pain and sadness back from where I've locked it away.
I still have my days where I feel so disconnected to the world. I wonder what the purpose is. I wonder why we have to go through this. I wonder if there's anything after, and if so, what is it? I wonder about stupid things, like if you get remarried because your spouse dies, do you have two spouses in heaven? How does everyone get along? Is it crowded there? It must be. People have been dying since the dawn of time, so there are lots and lots of people around, right? Thinking about this stuff makes me feel so small and unimportant. It makes me realize that things I used to worry about aren't even a blip on my worry radar now. It makes me feel like I'm just going through the emotions because why try any harder than I have to just to get by? None of this will matter in the end... While that does sound apathetic, it also pushes me to make my time here meaningful. Am I really doing what I ought to be doing? Am I using the talents God gave me to my best ability? I often don't think so. I feel pushed to do something else, to search for that one thing that will make me feel a little bigger and more important. Mostly I feel pushed to take control of my own happiness and success. I'm tired of having things dictated to me. This is how I should be as a wife. This is how I should be as a teacher. I really think I need to lead the way to my own happiness. Nobody else is going to "fix" me. And, to be honest, I can't fix myself. Not where I am now. I'm stifled and choked with policies, rules, and trivial expectations. My creativity is beaten down and my personality is locked away. Instead I've become someone who is angry, bitter, and cynical. Not only has this become my coping mechanism, but it has also become a way to deal with me feeling that I'm not being heard. I have amazing ideas. I am innovative and creative. I need to know that I'm valued, nurtured in my profession, and cultivated to be a leader or part of the leading body. I just feel like there's more for me and I'm not quite sure where to look just yet...
Monday, September 12, 2011
It's been a long time... Since you went away...
Dear Mom,
I've been horrible about updating recently, but things have just been hectic. I'd occassionally have these kind of weeks before, where I would go days without talking to you. Finally you'd either show up unannounced at the house or offer to take me for dinner to clear my head of the cluttered funk. Now I just stay buried beneath the mess of my life, the mess of work, and the mess of my mind. It's easier that way than to feel anything.
This past week was rough. Not only was it the tenth anniversary of 9/11, but our water heater also leaked all over the basement, where I had your things stored. So Adam spent his Sunday installing a new water heater, while I tried not to break down at the thought of losing the precious items I dragged from your house four months ago. I became angry, angry that I was feeling sad, yet again, over things I can't control. I can't control that the boxes were ruined and lots of the items were soaked. I was angry because I was forced to look at those things again - the things that had meant so much to my grandmother, then you, and now me. I had stored all of those items downstairs so that I wouldn't have to see them every day. Even the big hutch didn't have any of your things in it; instead I had loaded it with our DVD collection. But now that the floor is still drying and the boxes are falling apart, I am forced to decorate with heirlooms that I wasn't supposed to get for another 20 to 30 years. Now these items are everywhere, set out to remind me of what I've gained since I lost you.
These days I sometimes find myself feeling, just for the briefest moment, a flutter of hope that none of this is real. That I've been dreaming and you're not really gone. Then I quickly snap back into reality and realize that you've been gone for almost four months. Four months since the worst day of my life. And even now, just writing about it, brings up all the pain and sadness that I've stifled since my last entry. I try so hard to bury it all so that it doesn't come out during a difficult moment of stress of anger. I don't want people to see this side of me, the side that is so vulnerable and broken that I don't know if I'll ever be fixed. I don't want anyone's pity. I don't want people to feel sorry for me or my situation. I don't want people to feel awkward and uncomfortable around me. So instead of talking about it, even just for a second, I have taken to locking it deep inside. Deep down I'm afraid that if I let it out, even for one second to discuss the pain and heartbreak, I'll never be the same person to the listener. Everything else in my life has changed, but I need to remain constant in the eyes of others.
So I keep busy. I bog myself down at work with anything and everything. When I come home, I refuse to sit down unless it's to watch Logan for a moment. Once Logan's in bed, I avoid my husband because I'm afraid that any form of affection is going to break me. I've welded my armor shut and can't let anything in, for fear I'll never get it closed again.
Even now, as I write this and let my emotions spill out, I reign in my sadness and pain and tuck it back into myself. But that doesn't mean I don't feel it anymore; it just means that I've become that much better at hiding myself from everyone else.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Writing so soon?
Dear Mom,
I tried to write another post, but I just couldn't. I broke down. This has been building up all week. I wish so much that you were here. I feel so alone, even when I'm surrounded by people. Throwing myself into anything and everything just so I don't have to think about you just isn't working. By the end of the day I'm so exhausted and drained that I feel close to snapping.
I don't know if it's possible to convey in words how painful it is to wish for one last hug, one last moment with the person who gave you life, and to know that it's impossible. I try so hard to keep going, living my life how I was before, but nothing's the same. Everything has changed.
It's hard to realize that one's life will forever be measured by one event, but this is how my life will be. There will be the time before June 17, 2011, and the time after. My whole world literally was turned upside down.
On top of realizing this, I don't feel that I have a grip at all on any aspect of my professional life. I'm just going through the motions, trying to keep my head above water. I'm treading because I thought that would keep me busy, keep my mind off of everything. But I'm tired of treading. I'm questioning why I started treading in the first place. I'm questioning why I'm still treading, when I'm clearly not happy. I ask myself daily, "Why are you still treading when you don't have to?" I know radically changing my entire path in life is not ideal, but I feel that my path has already been detoured by a mudslide, an avalanche, and a flood. Now I've picked it up again on the other side, but I'm unsure if this is the right direction for me.
I know that's a lot of hidden messages, but those who know will understand exactly what I'm writing about. Basically I don't know what I'm doing, so why keep doing it...?
I wish you were here to give me advice. But, if you were here, I wouldn't be in this situation. I'd still be treading because I had to in order to survive. There would be no other paths, no other options.
I used to hate having fewer options. It made me feel stuck. Now I'd give anything to have only the one, keep treading.
I tried to write another post, but I just couldn't. I broke down. This has been building up all week. I wish so much that you were here. I feel so alone, even when I'm surrounded by people. Throwing myself into anything and everything just so I don't have to think about you just isn't working. By the end of the day I'm so exhausted and drained that I feel close to snapping.
I don't know if it's possible to convey in words how painful it is to wish for one last hug, one last moment with the person who gave you life, and to know that it's impossible. I try so hard to keep going, living my life how I was before, but nothing's the same. Everything has changed.
It's hard to realize that one's life will forever be measured by one event, but this is how my life will be. There will be the time before June 17, 2011, and the time after. My whole world literally was turned upside down.
On top of realizing this, I don't feel that I have a grip at all on any aspect of my professional life. I'm just going through the motions, trying to keep my head above water. I'm treading because I thought that would keep me busy, keep my mind off of everything. But I'm tired of treading. I'm questioning why I started treading in the first place. I'm questioning why I'm still treading, when I'm clearly not happy. I ask myself daily, "Why are you still treading when you don't have to?" I know radically changing my entire path in life is not ideal, but I feel that my path has already been detoured by a mudslide, an avalanche, and a flood. Now I've picked it up again on the other side, but I'm unsure if this is the right direction for me.
I know that's a lot of hidden messages, but those who know will understand exactly what I'm writing about. Basically I don't know what I'm doing, so why keep doing it...?
I wish you were here to give me advice. But, if you were here, I wouldn't be in this situation. I'd still be treading because I had to in order to survive. There would be no other paths, no other options.
I used to hate having fewer options. It made me feel stuck. Now I'd give anything to have only the one, keep treading.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
A Rainbow
Dear Mom,
Last week I read Heaven is for Real by Todd Burpo. It's the story of a little boy who undergoes surgery and has an out-of-body experience where he goes to Heaven. A friend had recommended the book and, being that I've been searching for answers, I felt compelled to read it. The little boy shares his experience with his dad, and the reader learns a little bit about this child's version of Heaven.
One of the most interesting things the little boy saw were rainbows. As I was reading and later, when I had finished, thinking about it all, I made yet another "ultimatum" with God. In my head I said, "I haven't seen a rainbow in a long time. If I see a rainbow tomorrow, I'll know that God exists." The next day Adam, Logan, and I went to Edinburgh to the outlets. We did lots of shopping and were outside quite a bit, but, to be honest, I had forgotten about my ultimatum.
Later that evening, after Logan was put to bed, I was on one of my favorite websites, Pinterest. I was scrolling through the most recently pinned images, and, lo and behold, there was a picture of a rainbow. I instantly stopped and remembered what I had asked for the previous day...
Now, being my normal cynical self, I later started analyzing what I had seen to, again, disprove my faith.
1) That is not actually a picture of a rainbow. It's a moonbow.
2) Does a moonbow image on a computer even count?
3) It could've been just a random coincidence.
And then I realized that I continually try to discount the signs I've been given. The bibs. Logan saying "mom" just days after my mom passed. Now this. How many times will I ask for signs and then ignore them? I guess it's in my nature to question everything. It is hard to really believe in something that I can't see, especially with all the bad in the world. But I began to realize that I have to stop asking if I'm just going to blow it off as a mere coincidence.
I still don't have the answers I'm looking for, and I probably never will, but at least, for that moment, I was comforted knowing that you are still out there and someone is looking out for me here.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Wise Women
Dear Mom,
I'd like to share with you the story of some wise women that I've come to know better since your passing. These women have really helped me feel supported and not so alone. They've shared their own experiences and have just been inspirational to me...
The first is Sarah. She's a teacher I work with, but, since she's on the older side of the building, do not have much contact with. Earlier this year Sarah's younger brother passed away. I remember hearing about it through some of the other teachers and just feeling so helpless to offer any kind of support, encouragement, or words of strength. I'd never really lost anyone close to me before their time. When she returned to work I remember seeing her at a staff meeting and telling her that I was glad she was back and that I was thinking of her and her family. I'm sure she heard it from everyone... Well, yesterday Sarah came up to me during dismissal and handed me an envelope. I think I knew what was inside. It's almost like those of us who have lost someone so unexpectedly have some kind of common language (more about this in a moment). Anyway, her card, and the note inside, meant so much to me. She wrote about her experience with her brother's death just a few months ago, and shared that what I'm going through is completely normal, albeit painful. I feel so much better knowing that there won't always be this devastating pain whenever I think of you, Mom. Sarah's mom is a pastor, and I have been (I literally just wrote dying and then erased it) wanting to ask her about her views on Heaven and religion in general. I hope that, as we help each other through this school year, I can be more comfortable speaking about this stuff, rather than just writing it...
The second wise woman I've come to appreciate is a senior named Donna. I don't know what it is about this girl, but she just gets it. She's so wise beyond her years. I don't know what experiences she's had with death, but she recommended I read Heaven is for Real by Todd Burpo, which I've nearly devoured in four short hours. The fact that she would reach out to a teacher and share her views is great. I can definitely learn something from Donna as well. Kids (or young people, whatever you want to call someone who's 10 years younger than me) tend to see the world differently than us cynical adults. As a kid I never questioned my beliefs. Now I can't seem to stop. I suppose there are good and bad reasons to question religion, but I am glad that Donna is so strong in her convictions and can remain optimistic about our purpose here. Not many people, especially teenagers, can do that in our society.
The third woman I've found to be a life-saver is Jen. She is an online friend that I met over a year ago when I joined an online community for pregnancy. We've since become Facebook friends. When you passed away, I began sharing and Jen immediately shared her story. Her mother was killed in an automobile accident when Jen was just 13. I can't even imagine losing your mother at such an important age. Jen told me that, since then, every important event (her wedding, graduation, etc.) has had rainy weather. She feels that this is her mother's way of communicating and showing her presence at these events, in spirit if not in person. Sometimes I wonder if you are trying to communicate with me, to let me know that you're here. I always second-guess myself, which is why I really appreciated Jen's experiences. In the past month or so I've noticed that, when Logan and I are playing in his room, he often looks out the door and focuses for moments on the ceiling above the stairwell. There is a light there, but it is never turned on when we play, as it is in the afternoon and enough natural light comes through the windows. In my gut I've always felt that Logan has been able to "sense" you watching us play. But I don't know, maybe he's just really into unlit light fixtures... Jen was really the first person to reach out to me and share her story. As I told her, it's like a special club that we belong to. Nobody wants to join this club, and people start acting awkward around you once you're in. I think that's why I feel so connected to Jen and Sarah... they've been through this and have come out willing to help others who are deep in the beginning of the horrible experience.
The final person who has shared her wisdom is Jessica. We've worked together for several years now and have always been close. However, losing someone close to you so unexpectedly instantly brings you closer to others in the "club." During teacher week, Jessica and I went out to lunch and she shared the story of her best friend's death just a few years ago. Even though her loss was a few years back, she told me that there's not a day which goes by that she doesn't think of her. She, like the others, told me that there have been times when her best friend has "visited." Hearing so many people tell me about these visits does make me optimistic about the afterlife. Jessica also called me on my behavior as well. I do not feel comfortable showing any emotion in front of people. This is the main reason I am keeping this blog. Sharing this is, at times, hard. However, I want to be like the others who have helped me stay strong. Knowing that, at least these four friends are reading, makes me want to continue sharing, as they have done for me.
I'd like to share with you the story of some wise women that I've come to know better since your passing. These women have really helped me feel supported and not so alone. They've shared their own experiences and have just been inspirational to me...
The first is Sarah. She's a teacher I work with, but, since she's on the older side of the building, do not have much contact with. Earlier this year Sarah's younger brother passed away. I remember hearing about it through some of the other teachers and just feeling so helpless to offer any kind of support, encouragement, or words of strength. I'd never really lost anyone close to me before their time. When she returned to work I remember seeing her at a staff meeting and telling her that I was glad she was back and that I was thinking of her and her family. I'm sure she heard it from everyone... Well, yesterday Sarah came up to me during dismissal and handed me an envelope. I think I knew what was inside. It's almost like those of us who have lost someone so unexpectedly have some kind of common language (more about this in a moment). Anyway, her card, and the note inside, meant so much to me. She wrote about her experience with her brother's death just a few months ago, and shared that what I'm going through is completely normal, albeit painful. I feel so much better knowing that there won't always be this devastating pain whenever I think of you, Mom. Sarah's mom is a pastor, and I have been (I literally just wrote dying and then erased it) wanting to ask her about her views on Heaven and religion in general. I hope that, as we help each other through this school year, I can be more comfortable speaking about this stuff, rather than just writing it...
The second wise woman I've come to appreciate is a senior named Donna. I don't know what it is about this girl, but she just gets it. She's so wise beyond her years. I don't know what experiences she's had with death, but she recommended I read Heaven is for Real by Todd Burpo, which I've nearly devoured in four short hours. The fact that she would reach out to a teacher and share her views is great. I can definitely learn something from Donna as well. Kids (or young people, whatever you want to call someone who's 10 years younger than me) tend to see the world differently than us cynical adults. As a kid I never questioned my beliefs. Now I can't seem to stop. I suppose there are good and bad reasons to question religion, but I am glad that Donna is so strong in her convictions and can remain optimistic about our purpose here. Not many people, especially teenagers, can do that in our society.
The third woman I've found to be a life-saver is Jen. She is an online friend that I met over a year ago when I joined an online community for pregnancy. We've since become Facebook friends. When you passed away, I began sharing and Jen immediately shared her story. Her mother was killed in an automobile accident when Jen was just 13. I can't even imagine losing your mother at such an important age. Jen told me that, since then, every important event (her wedding, graduation, etc.) has had rainy weather. She feels that this is her mother's way of communicating and showing her presence at these events, in spirit if not in person. Sometimes I wonder if you are trying to communicate with me, to let me know that you're here. I always second-guess myself, which is why I really appreciated Jen's experiences. In the past month or so I've noticed that, when Logan and I are playing in his room, he often looks out the door and focuses for moments on the ceiling above the stairwell. There is a light there, but it is never turned on when we play, as it is in the afternoon and enough natural light comes through the windows. In my gut I've always felt that Logan has been able to "sense" you watching us play. But I don't know, maybe he's just really into unlit light fixtures... Jen was really the first person to reach out to me and share her story. As I told her, it's like a special club that we belong to. Nobody wants to join this club, and people start acting awkward around you once you're in. I think that's why I feel so connected to Jen and Sarah... they've been through this and have come out willing to help others who are deep in the beginning of the horrible experience.
The final person who has shared her wisdom is Jessica. We've worked together for several years now and have always been close. However, losing someone close to you so unexpectedly instantly brings you closer to others in the "club." During teacher week, Jessica and I went out to lunch and she shared the story of her best friend's death just a few years ago. Even though her loss was a few years back, she told me that there's not a day which goes by that she doesn't think of her. She, like the others, told me that there have been times when her best friend has "visited." Hearing so many people tell me about these visits does make me optimistic about the afterlife. Jessica also called me on my behavior as well. I do not feel comfortable showing any emotion in front of people. This is the main reason I am keeping this blog. Sharing this is, at times, hard. However, I want to be like the others who have helped me stay strong. Knowing that, at least these four friends are reading, makes me want to continue sharing, as they have done for me.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
2 Months Exactly
It has been exactly two months since you left. Everything still seems surreal... and definitely much longer than two months.
My last post was pretty abrupt. I don't mean to say that I don't care about anything anymore. I mean to say that this whole ordeal has brought up so many questions about life and the purpose of it all. It's hard to focus, concentrate, and give a damn when I'm wondering if there is a Heaven... if God does exist... It's hard to stay positive and upbeat when there are these huge questions looming over me all the time. I wish I had answers. I wish I had some strong sense of faith, but I don't. I've always been the type to question everything, even if there's hard evidence to back it up. So, having no evidence at all, makes accepting a belief that much harder.
Where do we go when we die? What happens? Is everything predetermined? Is there even a God?
So when I put things into perspective, yes, it is a little hard to be the same person I was a year ago, or even three months ago. The closest person I had ever lost was my grandmother, who lived a full life and passed at 84. While her passing was definitely sad and painful, I felt content knowing that she was no longer in pain and had lived to see her children and grandchildren grown. Not exactly the same as a horrible accident at the age of 53, just six months after becoming a grandparent for the first time.
I just don't know what the purpose is anymore. What's the point? So I am here for a short time, procreate, get attached to people, then just leave? What's next? And, for that matter, what's AFTER the next phase? Does it just keep going?
I have no clue what I believe in anymore... I just don't think I can follow something blindly, hoping that it will all make sense in the end. This isn't some kind of TV show, like Lost, where I'm hanging at the end of the season. This is life... and it's really hard to give a damn when you have no idea why you're doing any of this in the first place.
My last post was pretty abrupt. I don't mean to say that I don't care about anything anymore. I mean to say that this whole ordeal has brought up so many questions about life and the purpose of it all. It's hard to focus, concentrate, and give a damn when I'm wondering if there is a Heaven... if God does exist... It's hard to stay positive and upbeat when there are these huge questions looming over me all the time. I wish I had answers. I wish I had some strong sense of faith, but I don't. I've always been the type to question everything, even if there's hard evidence to back it up. So, having no evidence at all, makes accepting a belief that much harder.
Where do we go when we die? What happens? Is everything predetermined? Is there even a God?
So when I put things into perspective, yes, it is a little hard to be the same person I was a year ago, or even three months ago. The closest person I had ever lost was my grandmother, who lived a full life and passed at 84. While her passing was definitely sad and painful, I felt content knowing that she was no longer in pain and had lived to see her children and grandchildren grown. Not exactly the same as a horrible accident at the age of 53, just six months after becoming a grandparent for the first time.
I just don't know what the purpose is anymore. What's the point? So I am here for a short time, procreate, get attached to people, then just leave? What's next? And, for that matter, what's AFTER the next phase? Does it just keep going?
I have no clue what I believe in anymore... I just don't think I can follow something blindly, hoping that it will all make sense in the end. This isn't some kind of TV show, like Lost, where I'm hanging at the end of the season. This is life... and it's really hard to give a damn when you have no idea why you're doing any of this in the first place.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Reality Doesn't Slow Down for Anyone
Dear Mom,
My first week back to school and I'm doing pretty well, albeit tired. You'd be glad to know that I only have 17 kids. Almost double the number of boys than girls; just like last year. When I'm at work, Adam watches Logan in the morning and then takes him to day care at one p.m. I pick him up after work. It's the church right around the corner and we really like it there. Yesterday Adam had a training all day, so Aunt Debbie offered to watch Logan in the morning and then dropped him off at day care for us. She said that Aiden and Andrew were calling Logan "cuz," which is just adorable. Did you know they'll all go to the same elementary?
I can't believe how much Logan's changed in just a few short months. He's so much taller now and so skinny - no baby fat or rolls at all. He's got lots of teeth and can crawl in a circle and scoot backwards.
Yesterday we took Logan and the dogs for a walk. We bought the pups a double leash, so it's much easier to walk with them. Do you remember when we walked all the way to Subway last year with them? I wonder, sometimes, if they miss you too.
Your co-worker Lorie helped me out by buying my students some school supplies. It was really sweet of her. I remember when we all went to Sahm's Bar and Grill. Lorie and I were joking about you having to move your office into the file room. It reminded me of Milton Wadams from Office Space.
Some days I still can't believe that all this has happened. It's like I still think I might wake up from this horrible dream. But then I remember that it's not a dream and that I've lost my mom, my very first best friend. It's still so hard and I wonder if it will ever get easier. I really don't know how anyone survives a loss like this. It's been almost two months and I am still in such pain that it just seems never-ending. Deep down I'm just so unhappy. I'm miserable. I really think the only thing that keeps me going is Logan. If it wasn't for him I don't think I'd get out of bed anymore. I think the pain would engulf me and stop me from living. Even now it's so easy to feel like I'm on the edge of complete depression. I feel like I'm teetering, and every day it's so easy to feed those negative feelings. By the end of the day I'm so mentally exhausted that I can't even function. My attitude, even during the day, is horrible. I find myself not caring about anything. I act like I do, but I don't. I don't care about my students. I have no connection to them this year, whereas last year I adored my class. I don't care to make friends with most of the new staff, whereas last year I was pretty social. I'm just going through the motions and trying not to get fired (honestly), but even that wouldn't really bother me. I really just don't care. The only reason I'm even still working is because I need something to take the focus off of my situation. I know I can't just sit around the house, but I can just go through the motions without any real feeling.
I think when you left us you took a piece of me with you. Without that piece I'll never be whole again. I'll never be the person I was... I miss that person. I didn't have to worry about all this estate and attorney stuff. I didn't have to go through the day being reminded that I no longer have my mom in my life. I had someone to talk to and call, someone to understand me and comfort me day or night. Now that you've taken that piece, I am only here. I'm not truly present in the moment. It's like when crabs and other sea creatures move from shell to shell as they grow larger. I'm an empty shell that's been left behind because a part of me has gone. Sometimes those shells will be filled anew, but more than likely they wash up on the shore, discarded and broken. Oh, how I wish you didn't leave me...
My first week back to school and I'm doing pretty well, albeit tired. You'd be glad to know that I only have 17 kids. Almost double the number of boys than girls; just like last year. When I'm at work, Adam watches Logan in the morning and then takes him to day care at one p.m. I pick him up after work. It's the church right around the corner and we really like it there. Yesterday Adam had a training all day, so Aunt Debbie offered to watch Logan in the morning and then dropped him off at day care for us. She said that Aiden and Andrew were calling Logan "cuz," which is just adorable. Did you know they'll all go to the same elementary?
I can't believe how much Logan's changed in just a few short months. He's so much taller now and so skinny - no baby fat or rolls at all. He's got lots of teeth and can crawl in a circle and scoot backwards.
Yesterday we took Logan and the dogs for a walk. We bought the pups a double leash, so it's much easier to walk with them. Do you remember when we walked all the way to Subway last year with them? I wonder, sometimes, if they miss you too.
Your co-worker Lorie helped me out by buying my students some school supplies. It was really sweet of her. I remember when we all went to Sahm's Bar and Grill. Lorie and I were joking about you having to move your office into the file room. It reminded me of Milton Wadams from Office Space.
Some days I still can't believe that all this has happened. It's like I still think I might wake up from this horrible dream. But then I remember that it's not a dream and that I've lost my mom, my very first best friend. It's still so hard and I wonder if it will ever get easier. I really don't know how anyone survives a loss like this. It's been almost two months and I am still in such pain that it just seems never-ending. Deep down I'm just so unhappy. I'm miserable. I really think the only thing that keeps me going is Logan. If it wasn't for him I don't think I'd get out of bed anymore. I think the pain would engulf me and stop me from living. Even now it's so easy to feel like I'm on the edge of complete depression. I feel like I'm teetering, and every day it's so easy to feed those negative feelings. By the end of the day I'm so mentally exhausted that I can't even function. My attitude, even during the day, is horrible. I find myself not caring about anything. I act like I do, but I don't. I don't care about my students. I have no connection to them this year, whereas last year I adored my class. I don't care to make friends with most of the new staff, whereas last year I was pretty social. I'm just going through the motions and trying not to get fired (honestly), but even that wouldn't really bother me. I really just don't care. The only reason I'm even still working is because I need something to take the focus off of my situation. I know I can't just sit around the house, but I can just go through the motions without any real feeling.
I think when you left us you took a piece of me with you. Without that piece I'll never be whole again. I'll never be the person I was... I miss that person. I didn't have to worry about all this estate and attorney stuff. I didn't have to go through the day being reminded that I no longer have my mom in my life. I had someone to talk to and call, someone to understand me and comfort me day or night. Now that you've taken that piece, I am only here. I'm not truly present in the moment. It's like when crabs and other sea creatures move from shell to shell as they grow larger. I'm an empty shell that's been left behind because a part of me has gone. Sometimes those shells will be filled anew, but more than likely they wash up on the shore, discarded and broken. Oh, how I wish you didn't leave me...
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Dealing with it? Not so much.
Mom,
I'm sick and tired of all this. I'm tired of having to call various companies (mortgage, car lease, utilities, etc.) and explain why the bill hasn't been paid. There are so many places to call and each time it takes three times as long as it should. I have to go through the stupid automated system to finally speak with some asshole who is rude every single time. Often I get someone who has no idea what the protocol is for a death. I have faxed a copy of your death certificate to just about everyone. The mortgage company claimed they never received it three times. Then they had me make up and fax a password. Why I couldn't do it over the phone, I have no idea. Not a single person has been helpful or even remotely decent to me. The insurance and mortgage people are the worst. Apparently to them we're just some numbers on a piece of paper. It hurts because not only do I have to call and explain myself over and over, but then there's just no emotion on their end. I just lost my mom and have no idea what I'm doing... couldn't you just go out of your way for a second to assist me in getting you the necessary paperwork? The worst was the car leasing company... They left a message, so I returned the call. The receptionist had NO IDEA who was handling the account and apparently didn't have a computer system to utilize. She literally said to me, "If you don't know the name of the person who called you, I can't help you." I had to wait for a few days until they called back before I could catch the representative's name.
The toughest, though, was yesterday's call. I had faxed paperwork to the mortgage company several times, and they kept claiming that it never went through. I faxed to TWO different numbers. Nothing. I called again to see if the paperwork had gone through from last week, and the guy on the phone was horribly rude. I told him that I had the transmission confirmations of all four faxes. I stated that all the other faxes I sent to other companies went through. I asked if he could help me out in any way, as I wasn't too excited to resend the paperwork again if it wasn't going to make it to the proper department. He was just so rude and told me that, "We're a company and everyone knows that a successful transmission notice doesn't mean it went through." I could tell he was getting irritated with me, but couldn't he imagine how I felt? I'm dealing with my mom's house and have sent you this paperwork MULTIPLE times. It's just disheartening to know that, sometimes, companies will just dick you around rather than help you out...
So after I hung up with the mortgage company asshole, I just broke down. I'm tired of having to deal with this. Every day I come home and there's a new stack of bills that have been forwarded from my mom's address. Each bill will take at least a 30 minute conversation and who knows what else... So instead of playing with my son or relaxing, I have to deal with these companies who could care less about me or my mom. I broke down and couldn't handle it anymore. I just needed to cry. It doesn't really make anything better, or different. I just needed to get the emotions out.
As I'm sitting there, sobbing all over my "first day of school" dress, my husband basically tells me to get up and go change into comfortable clothes and "man up". I know he was just trying to get my mind off of it, but, for the small time I actually let myself be sad and hurt, I need to be able to get it out and just be comforted. I just need to cry and be allowed to feel the pain. I already deny myself that enough. I hold it all in 90% of the time. But after a while I do break and it just has to come out. When I do allow myself to feel the pain, no matter for 5 minutes or just a few seconds, it is so unbearable that I also want to get over it and "man up" just so I don't have to feel anything again. But I can't because it's just so painful. It has to come out somehow and then I can function again... although hardly fully.
I'm sick and tired of all this. I'm tired of having to call various companies (mortgage, car lease, utilities, etc.) and explain why the bill hasn't been paid. There are so many places to call and each time it takes three times as long as it should. I have to go through the stupid automated system to finally speak with some asshole who is rude every single time. Often I get someone who has no idea what the protocol is for a death. I have faxed a copy of your death certificate to just about everyone. The mortgage company claimed they never received it three times. Then they had me make up and fax a password. Why I couldn't do it over the phone, I have no idea. Not a single person has been helpful or even remotely decent to me. The insurance and mortgage people are the worst. Apparently to them we're just some numbers on a piece of paper. It hurts because not only do I have to call and explain myself over and over, but then there's just no emotion on their end. I just lost my mom and have no idea what I'm doing... couldn't you just go out of your way for a second to assist me in getting you the necessary paperwork? The worst was the car leasing company... They left a message, so I returned the call. The receptionist had NO IDEA who was handling the account and apparently didn't have a computer system to utilize. She literally said to me, "If you don't know the name of the person who called you, I can't help you." I had to wait for a few days until they called back before I could catch the representative's name.
The toughest, though, was yesterday's call. I had faxed paperwork to the mortgage company several times, and they kept claiming that it never went through. I faxed to TWO different numbers. Nothing. I called again to see if the paperwork had gone through from last week, and the guy on the phone was horribly rude. I told him that I had the transmission confirmations of all four faxes. I stated that all the other faxes I sent to other companies went through. I asked if he could help me out in any way, as I wasn't too excited to resend the paperwork again if it wasn't going to make it to the proper department. He was just so rude and told me that, "We're a company and everyone knows that a successful transmission notice doesn't mean it went through." I could tell he was getting irritated with me, but couldn't he imagine how I felt? I'm dealing with my mom's house and have sent you this paperwork MULTIPLE times. It's just disheartening to know that, sometimes, companies will just dick you around rather than help you out...
So after I hung up with the mortgage company asshole, I just broke down. I'm tired of having to deal with this. Every day I come home and there's a new stack of bills that have been forwarded from my mom's address. Each bill will take at least a 30 minute conversation and who knows what else... So instead of playing with my son or relaxing, I have to deal with these companies who could care less about me or my mom. I broke down and couldn't handle it anymore. I just needed to cry. It doesn't really make anything better, or different. I just needed to get the emotions out.
As I'm sitting there, sobbing all over my "first day of school" dress, my husband basically tells me to get up and go change into comfortable clothes and "man up". I know he was just trying to get my mind off of it, but, for the small time I actually let myself be sad and hurt, I need to be able to get it out and just be comforted. I just need to cry and be allowed to feel the pain. I already deny myself that enough. I hold it all in 90% of the time. But after a while I do break and it just has to come out. When I do allow myself to feel the pain, no matter for 5 minutes or just a few seconds, it is so unbearable that I also want to get over it and "man up" just so I don't have to feel anything again. But I can't because it's just so painful. It has to come out somehow and then I can function again... although hardly fully.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Avoidance and More Avoidance
Dear Mom,
I've gotten to the point where I almost avoid talking about you again. Even now, writing this post, there are a million other things I find myself wanting to do just so I can avoid writing and thinking. Thinking about you makes me so sad. It's not the kind of sadness when you watch a sappy movie. It's not the kind of sadness when you hear of something awful on the news. This sadness is indescribable. There literally are no words to describe the depth of the sadness, and the pain that goes with it. I feel as though, if I let myself feel these emotions, I won't be able to recover. It would be so easy to just let it all go, but I just can't let myself feel that pain right now. So I keep focusing on other things so that I don't have to think about it...
I also find myself getting really short with people lately. Whether it be the people I work with or randoms in a store or elsewhere... I don't know why, but I just can't sympathize with the "oh poor me's" of every day life. I just want to scream out, "I don't care that things didn't go your way and now you're whining about it. I don't care that you are inconvenienced for two seconds by something that's not even a big deal. Don't you realize how lucky you are to be alive and have your family surrounding you? Don't you understand how fortunate you are not to have lost someone who meant more to you than words are able to express?"
Logan's crying for his bottle so I have to go now. I just wish you were here so much...
11:30 at night---
Today was such a long day at work, and reminded me of two years ago when, on our "open house" night at school, you ordered the entire staff pizza because the school wasn't feeding any of the teachers. When I got done meeting with parents tonight I wanted to call you so badly to tell you about my new room and how excited I am to have it finished. I wanted to just talk... So I called your cell phone, which went straight to voicemail. Your mailbox is full, so I wasn't even able to hear your voice. That's all I really wanted, just to hear your voice.
I just miss you so much. I've tried to think of words to describe these feelings, but it's indescribable. It's as though my heart was divided into thirds. There was a section for you, Adam, and Logan. Now that you're gone, my heart is only 66% full. There's nothing to fill that other third. It's empty, and no matter how much I try to fill it, nothing will fit.
I think about these things all day long. Whether I'm doing laundry or at work, I'm thinking of you and missing you. It's hard to go on pretending that I'm fine... If I smile enough and just avoid talking about it, people just pretend it never happened and don't bring it up. But deep down there is a pain and sadness that is the worst feeling I've ever experienced before. When I'm rested and have something to focus on, I'm usually able to soldier on and hold it together. But, like now, when I'm exhausted and focusing on writing this blog, the sadness becomes so unbearable.
I just don't know what to do. I would give anything to have you here for even one more minute. But I can't, and I don't understand. I don't understand what happens when you die. I don't understand why we're here and what's the point of life if we're just going to hurt and feel this sadness and emptiness inside. I don't understnad the purpose of anything anymore and I'm having a really hard time even believing in much these days... You were my rock, my anchor, and now you're gone and I'm just so lost, confused, and alone.
I've gotten to the point where I almost avoid talking about you again. Even now, writing this post, there are a million other things I find myself wanting to do just so I can avoid writing and thinking. Thinking about you makes me so sad. It's not the kind of sadness when you watch a sappy movie. It's not the kind of sadness when you hear of something awful on the news. This sadness is indescribable. There literally are no words to describe the depth of the sadness, and the pain that goes with it. I feel as though, if I let myself feel these emotions, I won't be able to recover. It would be so easy to just let it all go, but I just can't let myself feel that pain right now. So I keep focusing on other things so that I don't have to think about it...
I also find myself getting really short with people lately. Whether it be the people I work with or randoms in a store or elsewhere... I don't know why, but I just can't sympathize with the "oh poor me's" of every day life. I just want to scream out, "I don't care that things didn't go your way and now you're whining about it. I don't care that you are inconvenienced for two seconds by something that's not even a big deal. Don't you realize how lucky you are to be alive and have your family surrounding you? Don't you understand how fortunate you are not to have lost someone who meant more to you than words are able to express?"
Logan's crying for his bottle so I have to go now. I just wish you were here so much...
11:30 at night---
Today was such a long day at work, and reminded me of two years ago when, on our "open house" night at school, you ordered the entire staff pizza because the school wasn't feeding any of the teachers. When I got done meeting with parents tonight I wanted to call you so badly to tell you about my new room and how excited I am to have it finished. I wanted to just talk... So I called your cell phone, which went straight to voicemail. Your mailbox is full, so I wasn't even able to hear your voice. That's all I really wanted, just to hear your voice.
I just miss you so much. I've tried to think of words to describe these feelings, but it's indescribable. It's as though my heart was divided into thirds. There was a section for you, Adam, and Logan. Now that you're gone, my heart is only 66% full. There's nothing to fill that other third. It's empty, and no matter how much I try to fill it, nothing will fit.
I think about these things all day long. Whether I'm doing laundry or at work, I'm thinking of you and missing you. It's hard to go on pretending that I'm fine... If I smile enough and just avoid talking about it, people just pretend it never happened and don't bring it up. But deep down there is a pain and sadness that is the worst feeling I've ever experienced before. When I'm rested and have something to focus on, I'm usually able to soldier on and hold it together. But, like now, when I'm exhausted and focusing on writing this blog, the sadness becomes so unbearable.
I just don't know what to do. I would give anything to have you here for even one more minute. But I can't, and I don't understand. I don't understand what happens when you die. I don't understand why we're here and what's the point of life if we're just going to hurt and feel this sadness and emptiness inside. I don't understnad the purpose of anything anymore and I'm having a really hard time even believing in much these days... You were my rock, my anchor, and now you're gone and I'm just so lost, confused, and alone.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Back to school
Dear Mom,
Summer has finally come to an end, thank goodness. While I enjoyed my time with Logan, this summer just needs to be over. I go back to work on Monday, and the students return a week later. This time last year I had just been told, the weekend before "teacher week," that I would have to move my classroom two doors down. I was seven months pregnant and Adam was working the Brickyard 400 all weekend, as it's always the last weekend of July. Luckily you stepped in and offered to help. We were able to move my entire classroom in just a few hours. But what a pain in the ass... You didn't want me climbing up on things, so you helped me hang bulletin boards, crawl back behind book shelves and cubbies to retrieve things, and made me sit down every few minutes to have a drink of water. Afterwards we went and had lunch at Wendy's.
Today I am going into my classroom, which has been moved yet again. I knew at the end of the year I would be moving, but am only just now, the weekend before "teacher week," able to get in and work on it. This time around movers were hired to help bring the larger items upstairs. But I can only imagine that you would have offered, in a heartbeat, to either watch Logan or come along with me to help put everything in order. I definitely took those times for granted, and took you always being there for granted, too. I find myself wanting to say, "Oh, I'll just call my mom to help!" and then realizing that is no longer an option. Even yesterday, after I drastically changed my hair, I wanted to call and let you know. I knew you'd hate it (it's dark) but you'd still be the first one I would've called.
Even though I don't have you here anymore, I do have those memories of when you were there for me. I feel fortunate that I was able to live so close (just minutes down the road). I feel fortunate that you were so loved by your co-workers that they've offered to help supply my class with pencils and paper (for the fourth year in a row). I feel fortunate that I'm able to say we had the perfect "last day" together before you passed. None of this makes losing you any easier, but it does lessen the pain and regrets I might've had, had we not made each other a priority and been there for one another. I think that's what I can feel good about right now...
Summer has finally come to an end, thank goodness. While I enjoyed my time with Logan, this summer just needs to be over. I go back to work on Monday, and the students return a week later. This time last year I had just been told, the weekend before "teacher week," that I would have to move my classroom two doors down. I was seven months pregnant and Adam was working the Brickyard 400 all weekend, as it's always the last weekend of July. Luckily you stepped in and offered to help. We were able to move my entire classroom in just a few hours. But what a pain in the ass... You didn't want me climbing up on things, so you helped me hang bulletin boards, crawl back behind book shelves and cubbies to retrieve things, and made me sit down every few minutes to have a drink of water. Afterwards we went and had lunch at Wendy's.
Today I am going into my classroom, which has been moved yet again. I knew at the end of the year I would be moving, but am only just now, the weekend before "teacher week," able to get in and work on it. This time around movers were hired to help bring the larger items upstairs. But I can only imagine that you would have offered, in a heartbeat, to either watch Logan or come along with me to help put everything in order. I definitely took those times for granted, and took you always being there for granted, too. I find myself wanting to say, "Oh, I'll just call my mom to help!" and then realizing that is no longer an option. Even yesterday, after I drastically changed my hair, I wanted to call and let you know. I knew you'd hate it (it's dark) but you'd still be the first one I would've called.
Even though I don't have you here anymore, I do have those memories of when you were there for me. I feel fortunate that I was able to live so close (just minutes down the road). I feel fortunate that you were so loved by your co-workers that they've offered to help supply my class with pencils and paper (for the fourth year in a row). I feel fortunate that I'm able to say we had the perfect "last day" together before you passed. None of this makes losing you any easier, but it does lessen the pain and regrets I might've had, had we not made each other a priority and been there for one another. I think that's what I can feel good about right now...
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Information on grief from Wikipedia
(obviously from a very reliable source, but still interesting nonetheless...)
Lack of crying is a natural, healthy, and protective of the individual, and should be seen as a sign of resilience.[1][2][4] Science has found that some healthy people who are grieving do not spontaneously talk about the loss and pressing people to cry or retell the experience of a loss is harmful.
Resilience: “The ability of adults in otherwise normal circumstances who are exposed to an isolated and potentially highly disruptive event, such as the death of a close relation or a violent or life-threatening situation, to maintain relatively stable, healthy levels of psychological and physical functioning” as well as “the capacity for generative experiences and positive emotions.”
Delayed grief or trauma: When adjustment seems normal but then distress and symptoms increase months later. Researchers have not found evidence of delayed grief, but delayed trauma appears to be a genuine phenomenon. (I'm afraid this might happen if I don't at least deal with my feelings now)
fMRI scans of women from whom grief was elicited about the death of a mother or a sister in the past 5 years found it produced a local inflammation response as measured by salivary concentrations of pro-inflammatory cytokines. These were correlated with activation in the anterior cingulate cortex and orbitofrontal cortex. This activation also correlated with free recall of grief-related word stimuli. This suggests that grief can cause stress, and that this is linked to the emotional processing parts of the frontal lobe.[11]
Among those bereaved within the last three months, those who report many intrusive thoughts about the deceased show ventral amygdala and rostral anterior cingulate cortex hyperactivity to reminders of their loss. In the case of the amygdala, this links to their sadness intensity. In those who avoid such thoughts, there is a related opposite type of pattern in which there is a decrease in the activation of the dorsal amgydala and the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex. (I have no idea what this means but it doesn't sound very positive)
An adult may be expected to cope with the death of a parent in a less emotional way; however, it can still invoke extremely powerful emotions. This is especially true when the death occurs at an important or difficult period of life, such as when becoming a parent, graduation or other times of emotional stress. It is important to recognize the effects that the loss of a parent can cause and address these. As an adult, the willingness to be open to grief is often diminished. A failure to accept and deal with loss will only result in further pain and suffering. (kind of makes the previous post a bit more understandable...)
Previously it was believed that grief was only a human emotion, but studies have shown that other animals have shown grief or grief-like states during the death of another animal. This usually occurs in mammals, typically between a mother and in the event of its offspring's death. She will often stay close to her dead offspring for short periods of time and may investigate the reasons for the baby's non-response. For example, some deer will often sniff, poke, and look at its lifeless fawn before realising it is dead and leaving it to rejoin the herd shortly afterwards. Other animals, such as a lioness, will pick up its cub up in its mouth and place it somewhere else before abandoning it. But when a baby chimpanzee or gorilla dies, the mother will carry the body around for several days before it may finally be able to move on without it; this behavior has been observed in other primates, as well.
Jane Goodall has described chimpanzees as exhibiting mournful behavior toward the loss of a group member with silence and by showing more attention to it. And they will often continue grooming it and stay close to the carcass until the group must move on without it. Another notable example is Koko, a gorilla that uses sign language, who expressed sadness and even described sadness about the death of her pet cat, All Ball. Other animals, such as elephants, have shown unusual behavior upon encountering the remains of another deceased elephant. They will often investigate it by touching and grabbing it with their trunks and have the whole herd stand around it for long periods of time until they must leave it behind. It is unknown whether they are mourning over it and showing sympathy, or are just curious and investigating the dead body. Another form of grief in animals is when an individual loses its mate; this can be especially brutal when the species is monogamous. So when a pair bonding species, such as a black-backed jackal, loses its mate it can be very difficult for it to detach itself from its dead mate. (OMG this is so sad!)
Sigh...
Lack of crying is a natural, healthy, and protective of the individual, and should be seen as a sign of resilience.[1][2][4] Science has found that some healthy people who are grieving do not spontaneously talk about the loss and pressing people to cry or retell the experience of a loss is harmful.
Resilience: “The ability of adults in otherwise normal circumstances who are exposed to an isolated and potentially highly disruptive event, such as the death of a close relation or a violent or life-threatening situation, to maintain relatively stable, healthy levels of psychological and physical functioning” as well as “the capacity for generative experiences and positive emotions.”
Delayed grief or trauma: When adjustment seems normal but then distress and symptoms increase months later. Researchers have not found evidence of delayed grief, but delayed trauma appears to be a genuine phenomenon. (I'm afraid this might happen if I don't at least deal with my feelings now)
fMRI scans of women from whom grief was elicited about the death of a mother or a sister in the past 5 years found it produced a local inflammation response as measured by salivary concentrations of pro-inflammatory cytokines. These were correlated with activation in the anterior cingulate cortex and orbitofrontal cortex. This activation also correlated with free recall of grief-related word stimuli. This suggests that grief can cause stress, and that this is linked to the emotional processing parts of the frontal lobe.[11]
Among those bereaved within the last three months, those who report many intrusive thoughts about the deceased show ventral amygdala and rostral anterior cingulate cortex hyperactivity to reminders of their loss. In the case of the amygdala, this links to their sadness intensity. In those who avoid such thoughts, there is a related opposite type of pattern in which there is a decrease in the activation of the dorsal amgydala and the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex. (I have no idea what this means but it doesn't sound very positive)
An adult may be expected to cope with the death of a parent in a less emotional way; however, it can still invoke extremely powerful emotions. This is especially true when the death occurs at an important or difficult period of life, such as when becoming a parent, graduation or other times of emotional stress. It is important to recognize the effects that the loss of a parent can cause and address these. As an adult, the willingness to be open to grief is often diminished. A failure to accept and deal with loss will only result in further pain and suffering. (kind of makes the previous post a bit more understandable...)
Previously it was believed that grief was only a human emotion, but studies have shown that other animals have shown grief or grief-like states during the death of another animal. This usually occurs in mammals, typically between a mother and in the event of its offspring's death. She will often stay close to her dead offspring for short periods of time and may investigate the reasons for the baby's non-response. For example, some deer will often sniff, poke, and look at its lifeless fawn before realising it is dead and leaving it to rejoin the herd shortly afterwards. Other animals, such as a lioness, will pick up its cub up in its mouth and place it somewhere else before abandoning it. But when a baby chimpanzee or gorilla dies, the mother will carry the body around for several days before it may finally be able to move on without it; this behavior has been observed in other primates, as well.
Jane Goodall has described chimpanzees as exhibiting mournful behavior toward the loss of a group member with silence and by showing more attention to it. And they will often continue grooming it and stay close to the carcass until the group must move on without it. Another notable example is Koko, a gorilla that uses sign language, who expressed sadness and even described sadness about the death of her pet cat, All Ball. Other animals, such as elephants, have shown unusual behavior upon encountering the remains of another deceased elephant. They will often investigate it by touching and grabbing it with their trunks and have the whole herd stand around it for long periods of time until they must leave it behind. It is unknown whether they are mourning over it and showing sympathy, or are just curious and investigating the dead body. Another form of grief in animals is when an individual loses its mate; this can be especially brutal when the species is monogamous. So when a pair bonding species, such as a black-backed jackal, loses its mate it can be very difficult for it to detach itself from its dead mate. (OMG this is so sad!)
Sigh...
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Alone at the house
Dear Mom,
Today was the very first time that I was over at the house by myself (with Logan, of course, but we were all alone). The water softener people had to come and remove their appliance. The electricity has been shut off, so of course it was hot and muggy. I opened the front and back door and looked around while Logan had his bottle in his car seat. As I was walking around and thinking about what other things I might want to take home, I just got so angry. I hate admitting this, but I'm angry with you. Why didn't you wear a helmet? Do you realize how that little decision alone has changed everyone's life? Logan will never know his grandmother. He'll never get to make homemade Play-Doh with you. He won't have his grandma at "grandparents' day" in elementary school. You always wanted a granddaughter. Now, if my next child is a girl, who will help me decorate her nursery with girly decor? I'm just so upset with you. And it hurts. It hurts that one stupid decision has cost me my mom and my son's grandmother.
Now, I know that you just absolutely loved motorcycles and riding. Everyone keeps reminding me that, "At least she was doing something she loved." Did you love motorcycling more than me, Logan, and Michael? I highly doubt it, yet supposedly that's supposed to make me feel better. Do you know how many people at your company have reached out to us since you've gone? They feel sorry for us and hate to see us in this circumstance. I just feel so upset with you. Did you know that I had to check a box today that said "mother deceased"? I was filling out Logan's day care enrollment form and the paperwork asked for grandparent information. There were places for emergency contacts, authorized pick-ups, and immediate family information. Who am I supposed to put now that you're gone? Adam's parents can't very well be an emergency contact, they live 2 1/2 hours away. Dad is out of town on business a lot, especially now that he got another sales territory. Michael lives in Ohio. Who else would be able to pick up Logan if there was an emergency? You, as the grandmother, are supposed to fulfill that role. You're supposed to be there for us when we need you, and now you're gone. Don't you know how much that sucks? And to know it could've been avoided so easily... that's what angers me the most right now.
Today was the very first time that I was over at the house by myself (with Logan, of course, but we were all alone). The water softener people had to come and remove their appliance. The electricity has been shut off, so of course it was hot and muggy. I opened the front and back door and looked around while Logan had his bottle in his car seat. As I was walking around and thinking about what other things I might want to take home, I just got so angry. I hate admitting this, but I'm angry with you. Why didn't you wear a helmet? Do you realize how that little decision alone has changed everyone's life? Logan will never know his grandmother. He'll never get to make homemade Play-Doh with you. He won't have his grandma at "grandparents' day" in elementary school. You always wanted a granddaughter. Now, if my next child is a girl, who will help me decorate her nursery with girly decor? I'm just so upset with you. And it hurts. It hurts that one stupid decision has cost me my mom and my son's grandmother.
Now, I know that you just absolutely loved motorcycles and riding. Everyone keeps reminding me that, "At least she was doing something she loved." Did you love motorcycling more than me, Logan, and Michael? I highly doubt it, yet supposedly that's supposed to make me feel better. Do you know how many people at your company have reached out to us since you've gone? They feel sorry for us and hate to see us in this circumstance. I just feel so upset with you. Did you know that I had to check a box today that said "mother deceased"? I was filling out Logan's day care enrollment form and the paperwork asked for grandparent information. There were places for emergency contacts, authorized pick-ups, and immediate family information. Who am I supposed to put now that you're gone? Adam's parents can't very well be an emergency contact, they live 2 1/2 hours away. Dad is out of town on business a lot, especially now that he got another sales territory. Michael lives in Ohio. Who else would be able to pick up Logan if there was an emergency? You, as the grandmother, are supposed to fulfill that role. You're supposed to be there for us when we need you, and now you're gone. Don't you know how much that sucks? And to know it could've been avoided so easily... that's what angers me the most right now.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
146th and Gray Rd.
Dear Mom,
Yesterday I was able to get out of the house, by myself, for a few hours. As you know that doesn't happen often with a rambunctious 8 month old and a husband who works midnights. Adam and I had purchased some cabinet knobs from World Market and were a few short, so I had to run up to Carmel. I then shot over to Hobby Lobby, at 146th and 31. Of course the traffic up there is crazy, and I didn't want to sit in line with a bunch of minivans, so I headed east down 146th, unaware that I would drive through the intersection where you were killed.
I didn't immediately realize, or put two-and-two together, until I was a few blocks away. By then it was too late to turn around. On top of that, I didn't want to avoid and run away from a stupid intersection. My blood did run cold, so to speak, when I realized where I was headed. It was like that feeling when you see red and blue cop lights in your rearview mirror. Of course when I did pull up, the light was red, so I had to sit and wait for a minute or so. I remember looking around, as though there was going to be some remnant of June 17th left behind. I was analyzing every little scrap on the ground. "There's a shiny metal thing over there. Was it part of the motorcycle?" "What's that? Was it here 5 weeks ago?" Then, of course, the light turned red and I went on my way.
The entire time I sat at that light, which felt like much longer than under a minute, I kept thinking that maybe I would feel your presence. Maybe I would feel a connection. I don't know what I thought I would feel... but I didn't really feel anything. Yes, it was tense and no, I do not want to go back there in the near future, but I didn't have a break down, which is positive I suppose. I think it helped that I had other errands to run, so I wasn't concentrating on the fact that I had inadvertantly driven by the place where my mother was killed.
Later that night I told Adam. He shared that, when we went to Carmel a few days ago, he purposefully took us through Clay Terrace, the outdoor mall with lots of traffic and completely out of the way, in order to avoid going by the crash site. I hadn't even realized, but felt that it was really thoughtful of him. He may not remember his ATM pin number, but he did remember and think ahead on that one. Pretty impressive.
Oh, and when we were at Wal-Mart today getting food for the dogs, I saw a lady that reminded me so much of you. She had a ton of things, but no cart or basket. She was just carrying it all in her arms. There were at least three bags of chips in her tight grip, among other things. We ended up crossing paths with her a few times. It was strange, but she reminded me of how you used to do the same thing. You'd run into Marsh and say that we only had to grab a few things. I would try to get a basket or cart, but you'd swear that we wouldn't need it. By the time we walked to the checkout, not only would your arms be full, but mine would too. There would definitely be enough for a cart, but you would never get one. Anyway, apparently you aren't the only "I don't need a basket or cart" shopper.
It's funny how something silly like that reminds me of you... But it's definitely something each and every day that makes me remember a story or quirk of yours.
Yesterday I was able to get out of the house, by myself, for a few hours. As you know that doesn't happen often with a rambunctious 8 month old and a husband who works midnights. Adam and I had purchased some cabinet knobs from World Market and were a few short, so I had to run up to Carmel. I then shot over to Hobby Lobby, at 146th and 31. Of course the traffic up there is crazy, and I didn't want to sit in line with a bunch of minivans, so I headed east down 146th, unaware that I would drive through the intersection where you were killed.
I didn't immediately realize, or put two-and-two together, until I was a few blocks away. By then it was too late to turn around. On top of that, I didn't want to avoid and run away from a stupid intersection. My blood did run cold, so to speak, when I realized where I was headed. It was like that feeling when you see red and blue cop lights in your rearview mirror. Of course when I did pull up, the light was red, so I had to sit and wait for a minute or so. I remember looking around, as though there was going to be some remnant of June 17th left behind. I was analyzing every little scrap on the ground. "There's a shiny metal thing over there. Was it part of the motorcycle?" "What's that? Was it here 5 weeks ago?" Then, of course, the light turned red and I went on my way.
The entire time I sat at that light, which felt like much longer than under a minute, I kept thinking that maybe I would feel your presence. Maybe I would feel a connection. I don't know what I thought I would feel... but I didn't really feel anything. Yes, it was tense and no, I do not want to go back there in the near future, but I didn't have a break down, which is positive I suppose. I think it helped that I had other errands to run, so I wasn't concentrating on the fact that I had inadvertantly driven by the place where my mother was killed.
Later that night I told Adam. He shared that, when we went to Carmel a few days ago, he purposefully took us through Clay Terrace, the outdoor mall with lots of traffic and completely out of the way, in order to avoid going by the crash site. I hadn't even realized, but felt that it was really thoughtful of him. He may not remember his ATM pin number, but he did remember and think ahead on that one. Pretty impressive.
Oh, and when we were at Wal-Mart today getting food for the dogs, I saw a lady that reminded me so much of you. She had a ton of things, but no cart or basket. She was just carrying it all in her arms. There were at least three bags of chips in her tight grip, among other things. We ended up crossing paths with her a few times. It was strange, but she reminded me of how you used to do the same thing. You'd run into Marsh and say that we only had to grab a few things. I would try to get a basket or cart, but you'd swear that we wouldn't need it. By the time we walked to the checkout, not only would your arms be full, but mine would too. There would definitely be enough for a cart, but you would never get one. Anyway, apparently you aren't the only "I don't need a basket or cart" shopper.
It's funny how something silly like that reminds me of you... But it's definitely something each and every day that makes me remember a story or quirk of yours.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
June 16, 2011
Dear Mom,
I want to remind you how much fun we had on your birthday, June 16th, the day before you were killed in a motorcycle accident.
I had bought you two tops from JC Penney for your present. I admit that I had waited until the last minute. Although I searched through the store to find something that was appropriate, yet not "grandma-ish," I admit that I didn't put much thought into the gift. I knew you'd love anything I gave you... even if it was nothing. I settled on a fun sleeveless embellished top and a work-appropriate black blouse. I didn't even put any thought into the wrapping. I just found an old Vera Bradley bag and placed them inside with some tissue paper. The following day, after I had been notified of your passing, I would find these two tops hanging up from your dresser, waiting to be worn.
After I gave you your gift and we played with Logan a little bit, the three of us went out to lunch at Olive Garden. We both had the "unlimited soup and salad" while you spent more time playing with Logan, feeding him his puffs, than eating. I do remember you tried to give him a crouton, which upset me because he only had two stumps for teeth...
Once lunch was over we went across the street to Old Navy so I could do some shopping. While I browsed, you took care of Logan and played with him on a bench near the fitting rooms. I remember hearing people walk by and making comments about your adorable grandson, and you would respond about Logan being the perfect baby. When Logan got cranky, you fed and rocked him, all the while encouraging me to get a few more outfits.
When I had finished shopping we headed back to my house. I had asked if you wanted to make an extra stop by the library, as I had a book on hold, but you were eager to get home and take the motorcycle out with Bob. I dropped you by my house so you could pick up your car, while I ran in to get my library card. When I came out you were giving Logan, who was still sleeping in his car seat, a kiss and telling him that you'd see him later. You then gave me a hug and kiss on the cheek (which I wiped off because of your lipstick). I know you thanked me for the tops and probably said you loved me as well.
That was the last time I saw you... While I'm so very grateful for the wonderful day we had, I wish so much that I would've hugged you just a little harder. To be able to give you one last hug, and to just hold onto you for even one second longer, I would give anything.
I want to remind you how much fun we had on your birthday, June 16th, the day before you were killed in a motorcycle accident.
I had bought you two tops from JC Penney for your present. I admit that I had waited until the last minute. Although I searched through the store to find something that was appropriate, yet not "grandma-ish," I admit that I didn't put much thought into the gift. I knew you'd love anything I gave you... even if it was nothing. I settled on a fun sleeveless embellished top and a work-appropriate black blouse. I didn't even put any thought into the wrapping. I just found an old Vera Bradley bag and placed them inside with some tissue paper. The following day, after I had been notified of your passing, I would find these two tops hanging up from your dresser, waiting to be worn.
After I gave you your gift and we played with Logan a little bit, the three of us went out to lunch at Olive Garden. We both had the "unlimited soup and salad" while you spent more time playing with Logan, feeding him his puffs, than eating. I do remember you tried to give him a crouton, which upset me because he only had two stumps for teeth...
Once lunch was over we went across the street to Old Navy so I could do some shopping. While I browsed, you took care of Logan and played with him on a bench near the fitting rooms. I remember hearing people walk by and making comments about your adorable grandson, and you would respond about Logan being the perfect baby. When Logan got cranky, you fed and rocked him, all the while encouraging me to get a few more outfits.
When I had finished shopping we headed back to my house. I had asked if you wanted to make an extra stop by the library, as I had a book on hold, but you were eager to get home and take the motorcycle out with Bob. I dropped you by my house so you could pick up your car, while I ran in to get my library card. When I came out you were giving Logan, who was still sleeping in his car seat, a kiss and telling him that you'd see him later. You then gave me a hug and kiss on the cheek (which I wiped off because of your lipstick). I know you thanked me for the tops and probably said you loved me as well.
That was the last time I saw you... While I'm so very grateful for the wonderful day we had, I wish so much that I would've hugged you just a little harder. To be able to give you one last hug, and to just hold onto you for even one second longer, I would give anything.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Teeth and Snot
Dear Mom,
If you were here I would be calling you daily to report about Logan's painful teething, excessive drooling, and constant sneezing. I would tell you that Logan's top four teeth are coming in, causing him a lot of pain. He's so stuffy, whether from a summer cold or the teeth, that he can't breathe without being elevated. I would call you and ask your advice... Should I put his mattress on an incline? Do I use a pillow to do that? A towel? How can I help him sleep when he can't breathe through his little nose? What should Ido since he's not eating as much because he's in pain? No, you might not have had all the answers, but you certainly put my mind at ease and calmed my new mom/first teething experience jitters.
I think about you every day. Today we went by the house to collect the mail, but other days even the smallest things can trigger a memory. I had a meeting at work with the new principal and remembered how, on my way home after work, I would call you two or three times a week during my drive home. When I was emptying the dishwasher yesterday, I put away a small dish that you had given me to use when I feed Logan his homemade baby food. I especially know that Mike was thinking about you today, as it's his 26th birthday. I know you would've called him at 12:01 a.m. and sang "Happy Birthday" over the phone. You would've ordered something online and had it sent to his apartment. Like you did on my birthdays, you'd send a birthday card with a note about how proud you are and included a little smiley face just below your signature.
I miss you, mom. I miss you so much.
If you were here I would be calling you daily to report about Logan's painful teething, excessive drooling, and constant sneezing. I would tell you that Logan's top four teeth are coming in, causing him a lot of pain. He's so stuffy, whether from a summer cold or the teeth, that he can't breathe without being elevated. I would call you and ask your advice... Should I put his mattress on an incline? Do I use a pillow to do that? A towel? How can I help him sleep when he can't breathe through his little nose? What should Ido since he's not eating as much because he's in pain? No, you might not have had all the answers, but you certainly put my mind at ease and calmed my new mom/first teething experience jitters.
I think about you every day. Today we went by the house to collect the mail, but other days even the smallest things can trigger a memory. I had a meeting at work with the new principal and remembered how, on my way home after work, I would call you two or three times a week during my drive home. When I was emptying the dishwasher yesterday, I put away a small dish that you had given me to use when I feed Logan his homemade baby food. I especially know that Mike was thinking about you today, as it's his 26th birthday. I know you would've called him at 12:01 a.m. and sang "Happy Birthday" over the phone. You would've ordered something online and had it sent to his apartment. Like you did on my birthdays, you'd send a birthday card with a note about how proud you are and included a little smiley face just below your signature.
I miss you, mom. I miss you so much.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
One month
It has been just a little over one month since my mom passed away. I'm hoping to update this blog frequently as I attempt to understand the hows, whys, and heal.
A link to one of the many news stories from that day can be found here: http://www.wishtv.com/dpp/news/local/hamilton_county/2-die-in-motorcycle-vs-box-truck-crash
Most of all these days I wonder...
Where has she gone? Is she in Heaven? Where is Heaven? Can she see me? Does she watch and guide me? Does she send me signs and messages? Is God real? Is Heaven real? If so, where are they? If not, then where is my mom? Is she simply gone, buried and tossed away like a broken appliance? Humans are mechanical, right? What makes us different than a broken washer? Yes, we can feel and think... but does that really matter in the long run? If an animal dies, does it go to Heaven because it can feel and think too? These kinds of thoughts give me such a heart-stopping fear that I have to immediately move to something else - whether housework or some other menial task, just so I won't think. To think that she is just gone, that there is nothing else is...
Morbidly I wonder...
Did she feel pain? What was her last thought? Did she think about me, my son, and my brother? What did she feel? My mind runs the crash over and over, as though I was a spirit above, hovering. It's almost like slow motion, and makes me so heart sick that I can't breathe. These kind of thoughts debilitate me. They stop me cold in my tracks and consume me. I can't move or speak until I've gone through the whole imaginary scenario in my head - from start to finish. And what good does it do?
I wonder about signs...
The fact that I prayed to her, "Show me a sign. Show me that you are here. Show me that I'm not alone," and the next day my son started saying, "Momomomomom." Is that a sign? Or was he going to say that anyway because he was developmentally ready?
When I was at the doctor's office, waiting for the physician, sitting across the room from my purse, and suddenly David Gray's "Please Forgive Me" blasted from my iPod, loud enough for me to hear across the small room. Was that her telling me she's sorry to have left us? Or was my wallet putting pressure on the button that eventually turned the volume up loud enough for me to hear?
When I reached into a pile of my son's bibs, and while tossing them around in their basket, mentally asked my mom to make me pick out an "I love grandma" one, which I then did... Was it my mom sending me a sign or was that particular bib within my grasp?
Everything could be a sign. All these "signs" could simply be chance. Maybe there is no higher power controlling which bib I pick up. It was just there and I selected it randomly from a basket, giving it more meaning than an inanimate object could ever possess.
I don't know anything anymore. I'm unsure and feel lost. Misguided. Turned upside down and left alone to figure out which way is up.
One thing I do know is that I miss her with a pain that is so intense I do not know how I'm able to survive. There is a hole in my heart, so how am I still alive?
A link to one of the many news stories from that day can be found here: http://www.wishtv.com/dpp/news/local/hamilton_county/2-die-in-motorcycle-vs-box-truck-crash
Most of all these days I wonder...
Where has she gone? Is she in Heaven? Where is Heaven? Can she see me? Does she watch and guide me? Does she send me signs and messages? Is God real? Is Heaven real? If so, where are they? If not, then where is my mom? Is she simply gone, buried and tossed away like a broken appliance? Humans are mechanical, right? What makes us different than a broken washer? Yes, we can feel and think... but does that really matter in the long run? If an animal dies, does it go to Heaven because it can feel and think too? These kinds of thoughts give me such a heart-stopping fear that I have to immediately move to something else - whether housework or some other menial task, just so I won't think. To think that she is just gone, that there is nothing else is...
Morbidly I wonder...
Did she feel pain? What was her last thought? Did she think about me, my son, and my brother? What did she feel? My mind runs the crash over and over, as though I was a spirit above, hovering. It's almost like slow motion, and makes me so heart sick that I can't breathe. These kind of thoughts debilitate me. They stop me cold in my tracks and consume me. I can't move or speak until I've gone through the whole imaginary scenario in my head - from start to finish. And what good does it do?
I wonder about signs...
The fact that I prayed to her, "Show me a sign. Show me that you are here. Show me that I'm not alone," and the next day my son started saying, "Momomomomom." Is that a sign? Or was he going to say that anyway because he was developmentally ready?
When I was at the doctor's office, waiting for the physician, sitting across the room from my purse, and suddenly David Gray's "Please Forgive Me" blasted from my iPod, loud enough for me to hear across the small room. Was that her telling me she's sorry to have left us? Or was my wallet putting pressure on the button that eventually turned the volume up loud enough for me to hear?
When I reached into a pile of my son's bibs, and while tossing them around in their basket, mentally asked my mom to make me pick out an "I love grandma" one, which I then did... Was it my mom sending me a sign or was that particular bib within my grasp?
Everything could be a sign. All these "signs" could simply be chance. Maybe there is no higher power controlling which bib I pick up. It was just there and I selected it randomly from a basket, giving it more meaning than an inanimate object could ever possess.
I don't know anything anymore. I'm unsure and feel lost. Misguided. Turned upside down and left alone to figure out which way is up.
One thing I do know is that I miss her with a pain that is so intense I do not know how I'm able to survive. There is a hole in my heart, so how am I still alive?
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